crayola's new partner, the last blues
after sheila murphy & palace music
blankets transformed into tents looking like a lost pot's last pocking, it punctuated the hillside & transported crayola back to the beginning of her beginnings here in these streams filled w/her eye cups & her longing - a longing for bitterroot & the freshest thunder - she'd never forsaken the brute choir of slow blues in the early morning of that old jerusalem that was her two sisters singing to her from some unexplored delta deep w/in her body, far off & drifting further,
"we all - us three - will ride"
Jeffrey Little | Mudlark No. 15
Contents | crayola seen from the side